Page 35 of Keeper of the Word (The Unsung and the Wolf Duology #2)

Chapter

Thirty

ELANNA

E lanna was not accustomed to being barred from places in Ashwin, but in Castle Sidra, there seemed to be very few places she was welcome, despite the sovereign’s words of hospitality.

Prince Dashiell’s whereabouts were kept secret. She considered asking King Rian, but something held her back.

She had chanced upon Daved again while searching the castle for the prince, but their interaction at the entrance to the training yard had been brief.

As no one had outright commanded Elanna to leave, she stood observing Daved train with the other Warins.

Although he and the other three new Warins were distinguishable by their yellow bands on their uniforms, their combat skills matched the seasoned Warins.

Daved and one other in particular, Sir Petre—she’d overheard someone call him—moved in a simultaneous fashion that drew her attention.

Petre kept his eyes hooded as he sparred alongside her brother, so ’twas nearly impossible to read much about him.

Yet Elanna had a sensation of familiarity marking them together.

She would have to ask Daved later if they were friends.

She caught a commander throwing her uneasy scowls, so she determined to leave. Part of her longed to stay as if there was something she should note. She shrugged off the feeling. It must be the fascination of reconnecting with Daved, ’twas all.

After the night of the kiss, Hux had not returned to guard duty. Finally, one morning, Joss could not stop herself from voicing her opinion.

“That man is a menace. Shirking his duties! I cannot believe that Lord Tolvar—” She blushed. “A thousand pardons, m’lady.”

Elanna shrugged, uncertain of her own feelings.

“Speaking of. Any word from Lord Tolvar?” she asked as they strode to the Crown Hall to break their fast. Goosebumps moved over her skin at the thought of him.

It’d been such a long stretch of days with nary a word.

Would that she’d See something to ease her.

Would Tolvar return in time for Prince Dashiell’s wedding?

Dashiell, the phantom prince.

Mayhap she could send a message to Tolvar. Find out when he would return.

As Elanna remained deep in thought, she all at once became aware of Joss’s attempt to reply to her question. “None, m’lady,” Joss said. The dame’s worried brow betrayed her.

“’Tis been too long. Let us set our course of action. Come. To the ravenmaster.”

The three made their way to the message tower, Elanna squinting in the dawn’s sunlight.

“Wait,” Barrett said, throwing an arm across Joss and moving them into a shadow. Across the yard, Prince Dashiell slunk out of the tower’s entrance. His eyes darted to and fro. He paused against the stone wall before walking with purpose to a side door of the keep.

Elanna made to take a step, but Barrett shook his head.

A moment later, the prince’s three guards came out of a different door, clearly in search of someone. The prince, of course. “He could not have gone far,” one said.

“I do not fancy playing nursemaid,” said another.

The guards decided upon the door the prince had gone through and vanished .

“Wait until you speak to the ravenmaster,” Hux’s voice came from behind, catching them off guard. “’Tis absolutely fascinating.”

Joss hissed out a curse. Her patience with him was as waned as the Nay Moon.

“What do you mean?” Elanna asked, not meeting his eyes.

“The prince has been coming here every dawn. He sends a message to the same person every morning.”

“How do you know this?” Barrett asked.

“Please,” Hux said. “This castle’s security is a farce. I’ve been tailing the prince and those scatterbrains for days. Have you not noticed my absence?”

“Aye, we noticed, you dunce,” Joss said.

Hux shrugged. “I’ve been incredibly helpful. Come. Let us see our bird playfellow.”

At the top, the rancid odor of the ravens struck Elanna as it had the first time they’d been here.

At the window, the ravenmaster stood, one of his black birds on his forearm, a message tied to its leg.

He whispered intently to the bird, and Elanna had the distinct feeling that the raven understood him.

He extended his arm out the window, and the raven took off, its wings furiously beating.

Obvious surprise plastered the old man’s face when he turned to the group at the doorway.

“Stars almighty!” His hand clutched his chest. “You startled me something fierce, Lady StarSeer. How may I be of service, m’lady?”

“You know exactly how you may,” Hux said, stepping forward, making a show of throwing his shoulders back.

He’d already made a few complaints about not having permission to carry a sword in the inner keep and most certainly wished for it now.

“The prince comes in here every morning, and I’ve observed a raven leave this tower shortly after, always in the same direction.

When last we spoke, you were told—nay, warned—by the Wolf to send no more.

Now. Where is that cunning prince sending his messages? ”

“I cannot reveal that,” the ravenmaster said indignantly. “As I already said, I serve the House of Sidra.”

“Did you not listen to Lady Elanna?” Joss shouted. “These messages are to bring ill fortune to the House of Sidra. Are you prepared to tell the Wolf of your disregard? Or the sovereign?” Joss added.

The ravenmaster nervously scratched his beard.

Elanna was finished with this. These messages the ravenmaster sent for Prince Dashiell were important. She knew it when they’d first arrived, and she knew it still. The prickling down her back proved it.

She’d waited. She’d prayed. She’d practically done nothing since coming to Asalle, and all at once, she was tired. Tired of waiting and doing naught.

She stood before him and gave her best glare. “Tell us.” She crossed her arms. “This instant.”

Sweat broke on the ravenmaster’s brow. “The prince is sending messages to a village in the south of Anscom. ’Tis almost on the border of Greenwood.”

“To whom?”

“I do not read his messages nor scribe them.”

“’Tis a lie. In fact, I See your end. You shall meet your end when ’tis discovered that you are reading messages. Would you like to know more?”

“Lady Elanna!” Joss cautioned her. StarSeers were forbidden from speaking of one’s death.

“I swear I do not read nor scribe the prince’s messages!” His hands flew up to his face. The surrounding ravens batted their wings. “I am a loyal servant!”

“What is the village called?”

“Glyn. The messages go to the constable there. I know not to whom he gives them. I swear.”

“Glyn is not far from Lessio, m’lady. Only a day’s ride from where Lord Tolvar is.” Joss’s voice was lowered. “Mayhap he can investigate.”

Elanna nodded. “Give me a parchment, ravenmaster.”

“By the way, Lady StarSeer,” the ravenmaster broached. “This message came for you an hour ago. ’Twas yet too early to deliver it.” He held up the folded message, the seal on the back hidden .

Finally! Word from Tolvar. Elanna snatched the message and dug in. She wasn’t two sentences into the message when her heart dipped in her chest.

“’Tis not from Tolvar,” she said to the others. “’Tis from Tara. And she shall be here on the morrow.”

While they hadn’t been able to gain information about why the prince was bent on writing and sending messages each day, at least they knew for certain he was sending them. Elanna had to speak to Prince Dashiell!

But how?

Fortunately, Hux had the answer. He’d made clever use of his time, it seemed.

Following Prince Dashiell for days had revealed to him the inner workings of the prince’s daily schedule.

Even if there was a deviation, Hux said, there were only so many variations to that schedule.

From all that Hux understood, no one save for the ravenmaster was aware that Prince Dashiell sent these early morning messages.

The prince had been strategic in his timing, the exits and entrances, and maintained enough of a schedule that his excuse, an early morning constitutional, was questioned but could not be disputed.

Hidden in nooks, crannies, and all manner of interesting places—the others blanched at the thought of him being caught—Hux stated he’d overheard King Rian lecture Dashiell each day about evading his guard.

But as no one had evidence that the prince was not simply out for a stroll, that had remained the extent of it.

Hux did mention that the prince and the king had appeared more and more strained in their interactions each day.

After these midmorning lectures, witnessed by the chancellor, the Warins on duty—but strangely never the queen—Prince Dashiell followed the sovereign to Sidra Hall, where King Rian held court until the midday meal.

Prince Dashiell was then conducted to his rooms—Hux minced no words that the prince did not appear to go by choice—where, from what Hux could gather, he spent time in study, prayer, or debate exercises with the chancellor or a pair of council members.

Midafternoon was the prince’s private training time, where Hux had observed the prince progress through the same sword exercises each day.

“He’s bored out of his mind,” Hux commented.

“And when I overheard him ask his tutor when he was to learn a new skill in the art of the sword, the tutor remarked that he was unready. Who can say why Dashiell is not being challenged in his sword instruction? But his movements tell me he could perform the skills he’s learned in his slumber.

“Next, he attends the nightly banquet. Dances with exactly three ladies chosen by either the sovereign or the chancellor and then is waltzed off to bed like a good, little princeling.”

Elanna heard all of Hux’s recounting, listening for the moment she could insert herself into the prince’s day. And it had to be today. On the morrow, Tara would ruin everything.

“If I am correctly reading the expression on your beautiful face”—Joss’s gasp interrupted him—“You are wondering when you might bump into the prince. I noticed that speaking with him has become important to you. The answer is, you cannot. You shall need to dance with the prince.”